


Aftermath

by GretchenSinister



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M, Rape Aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 12:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21814903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: "Because I can’t get enough Bottom!PitchIt’s been a while (years? decades? centuries?) since Jack’s had a good lay. Now that he’s a Guardian, he can’t move around freely and bed whomever he wants, even during peace times. He seeks out Pitch under the impression that such a lonely guy would screw just about anything. He’s wrong however; Pitch rejects him, but Jack won’t except no for an answer. His next move is simple:Blackmail– Jack threatens that if Pitch were to refuse him again, he’d tell his fellow Guardians some not so nice lies about Pitch taking advantage of him. They’d believe it too. Pitch knows it.+Pitch is initially repulsed/horrified by the idea of sleeping with Jack++Snarky Jack being oh so casual with his threats+++Jack likes it rough; Pitch doesn’t like it at all++++Weepy broken Pitch (yaaay!)"The interesting thing about this prompt is how the first sentence doesn’t relate at all to the rest of it.This fill is of Pitch recovering from the prompted scenario, coming to the conclusion that there’s something very wrong with the newest Guardian, and calling on another spirit as his next defense.
Relationships: Jack Frost/Pitch Black
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21
Collections: Blackice Short Fics





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 12/14/2015.

After the Nightmares had turned on him, Pitch had wanted to leave his bruised and bloodied body behind, to start over with something new. Then, he hadn’t been able to. He had been too weak.  
  
Now, years later, he was bruised again, though not nearly as bloody. He still felt far, far filthier. Even if giving up this body now had meant that he wouldn’t be able to become corporeal to anyone for decades, he would have done so, but he couldn’t. If he could, it surely would have happened by now. It would have happened when he’d realized that Jack was really doing exactly as he’d threatened. But, again, he was too weak.  
  
Pitch ground his teeth together. It wasn’t as though a little more strength would have helped him, not now. Evidence of an attack on Jack would have only bolstered the story he had promised to bring back to the Guardians if Pitch had refused at all, if he had tried to fight back at all. The story that Pitch had tried (or succeeded) in forcing himself on Jack. The version would depend on how much trouble Pitch caused to Jack as he proceeded.  
  
Jack had been so confident that the Guardians would believe that of Pitch, and Pitch could think of nothing to really defend himself, save that he knew he was not that kind of monster. But after killing Sandy, after directly attacking the Tooth Palace and the Warren, what would they believe him not capable of?  
  
Pitch shivered in the cool air of his lair, then shivered again, until he was shaking uncontrollably. It was not cool, it was _cold_, it was so _cold_, he was so cold, everything above him and beneath him and around him and within him was _cold_ and he never wanted to be _cold_ again, he just wanted to be warm, warm as the air of a tropical forest, warm as a bright hearth fire, warm as the summer sun, let it burn him away, let it burn him away to nothing.  
  
His robe was torn and dirty, and it didn’t help much against that _cold_, even after he dragged it over himself. He felt as though all his organs were freezing, and there was nothing that could help that feeling, because he could tell, just barely, that it wasn’t true. The _cold_ now was only in his mind. Even some of the filth on him, the filth that wasn’t the innocent grit of the cavern floor, even this was only the temperature of his surroundings, now.  
  
Why? He thought, as he waited for his shaking to subside. Why would Jack do this? He had said he thought Pitch would be desperate. Well, Pitch wasn’t. Why hadn’t Jack just left, then? Even with his new Guardian duties, surely he wouldn’t have had any trouble finding time with willing partners.  
  
He hadn’t seemed too disappointed by Pitch’s refusal. He had had his blackmail speech ready. Did he…oh, dreadful…did he specifically want an _unwilling _partner? An unwilling partner who wasn’t just unwilling as part of a game? Did he want to be the only one having fun?  
  
Pitch managed to get to his hands and knees to retch, and forced himself not to lie back down. Eventually he was going to have to stand; he might as well stay partway there.  
  
This encounter seemed to go against the center that everyone thought Jack had. But Jack hadn’t known it right away, had he? He hadn’t claimed it. Not even in Pitch’s lair, in his so recent visit. And it would have been terrible, but it would have made sense, wouldn’t it? For Jack to believe that Pitch couldn’t do anything but enjoy it because of his powers, because of his center. But Jack hadn’t said a thing like that.  
  
What if his center wasn’t his center?  
  
But did it even matter? Jack was moon-chosen. When Pitch had been a threat he had helped beat him. He had taken the Guardian oath. He was a winter spirit, but he had become a Guardian. And Pitch was Pitch, and he was only asking questions because of what Jack had just done to him. No one would believe him. And even if they did—who was to say that this wouldn’t be seen as fitting for him? Since Jack did what he did to Pitch, would anyone think that this might indicate something very, very wrong with their new Guardian?  
  
But Pitch didn’t want it to happen again. Ever. He’d rather be constantly walked through for centuries.  
  
He slowly pushed himself to just his knees, and then used the wall he’d been curled against to stand. He’d rather die standing, and the only solution he could think of right now might well result in his death. He’d done a great deal since last meeting her, and he didn’t always understand how her balances worked. But a conversation with her might be the only way he could have any backup for anything he might say to anyone else about what Jack had done.  
  
And the danger she offered—it was at least different from any other danger he ever faced. It wasn’t the kind of danger he faced from Jack. He was sure enough of that to call her.  
  
“Blind Lady Justice,” he said—not loudly, she would hear no matter what—“Pitch Black calls you.”  
  
Well, this ought to complicate his situation with the Guardians beyond all recognition.  
  
Still, he felt slightly warmer as the silver of her sword and scales began to materialize in the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Tags from Tumblr:
> 
> #I hate using the ship tag for rape prompts#but it must be classified somehow


End file.
